


Matchmaker, Matchmaker

by 1lostone



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2010. Moving from lj to ao3. </p><p>Written: for logical_stimuli 's prompt at the kink meme, mostly because it cracked me the hell up. <i>Here's what they wrote: We all know Q loves to cause problems, so what if he decided to play matchmaker (not thinking it would actually work) between Kirk/Bones or Kirk/Spock. I imagine Q would be excellent at this since he can stop time, change his appearance and pretty much be everywhere at once.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Logical_Stimuli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Logical_Stimuli/gifts).



> Of all my fic, this one is probably my favorite. 
> 
> You don't need to have seen TNG Q episodes to understand this fic. Just know that some of the dialogue comes directly from both Q Who and Deja Q (which is my absolute favorite Q episode evah!!.) as always, thanks to ladyblahblah for being an awesome beta. Any mistakes are mine because I can't keep fiddling with things. yesterdays_girl , I love ya and ty for the encouragement and help!

"Pro _ba_ tion?!"

"Surely you cannot be surprised at our decision, Q."

There was a rather rude sound that seemed to indicate Q _was_ jolly well surprised. Shocked, even. It was hard to tell. His fellow Q had become so enamored of all those human idiosyncrasies that he tended to use them at the most inopportune times- when speaking would have conveyed the same meaning with much less confusion. Q quite suspected he did it on purpose.

"Still? This is inconceivable. You turned me human. _Human_!" Q's face took on a highly affronted look. "I'm still trying to live that down. And now you're telling me that I'm still on notice?"

A flash of light and both Qs were on the bridge of Picard's _Enterprise_. _"Eighteen of our people have died. Please, tell us this is one of your illusions."_ Picard's voice was tight, each muscle in his body fairly twitching with suppressed rage.

" _Oh no. This is as real as your so-called life gets."_

Another flash of light and they were back where they had begun.

"You have brought this on yourself. The death of eighteen human souls demanded some sort of balance."

"Balance? What balance? Since when do we _balance_? Who would have the audacity to demand balance from the Q?"

There was a flash of light and when it cleared both Qs were watching Q on the floor of Ten-Forward, crying for help while Guinan looked on, smirking slightly. Q snapped his own fingers to get out of that particular moment of time. Even after everything, that woman still had the power to make him cringe. Or make him want to hide under the bed. Not that he would ever admit this.

"I introduced them to a section of the galaxy that Picard and his band of merry men would not have found in their natural lifetimes." Q tilted his chin. It was difficult to give the impression of looking down one's nose at an exact copy of oneself, but Q thought he managed nicely. "I am certain that is more than a recompense for eighteen measly, human…" He trailed off as his companion raised an eyebrow.

"Regardless of your opinion on the matter, the fact remains that you _are_ still on probation. I suggest you find a way to make amends for your mistakes in a way that _she_ will deem worthy. Don't forget we still owe her. This small matter should be sufficient to balance the scales."

Another flash of light and Guinan appeared, arms crossed over her chest, glaring coldly at Q.

Q felt himself pale. She was vindictive. She was protective of the humans. She was… still glaring at him. "What … would you have me do? Give Picard a teddy bear? Have Troi hook up with that pet Klingon?"

"You will leave them alone! Stay out of my time!" If possible, she looked even more unhappy.

"But--!"

"I don't want to hear it you miserable little excuse for a… a… well. Whatever it actually is that you are. You have no regard for the lives of any species you deem unworthy. You mock and manipulate the emotions that amuse you, without ever knowing the joy that is love… or, compassion! Or friendship!"

"But…" He loathed how feeble he sounded. The other Q stood slightly behind and to the left of Guinan, mirroring her pose exactly. He didn't look nearly as intimidating, but Q was beginning to get the impression that he wasn't going to be able to talk his way out of this one.

Guinan snapped her fingers. Nothing happened. She looked to the Q standing next to her furiously. He cringed and nodded.

Guinan snapped her fingers again and Picard's righteous voice seemed to echo around them. _"I understand what you've done here, Q, but I think the lesson could've been learned without the loss of eighteen members of my crew."_ Q cringed a little, remembering his response. Indeed, his mocking tone seemed more derisive than usual. _"If you can't take a little bloody nose, maybe you ought to go back home and crawl under your bed. It's not safe out here. It's wondrous, with treasures to satiate desires, both subtle and gross. But it is_ not _for the timid."_ His words hung in the air with the finality of a coffin slamming shut. Q admired the way his words worked together for a moment before their meaning, and how it stood to affect him at present sunk in.

"But....!" The pathetic syllable was more automatic than anything else. Q knew when he'd been outmaneuvered.

"Well? What are you waiting for? You're lucky I'm not taking away your powers again. That whole experience did provide quite a lot of amusement for everyone." Q made a shooing motion with his hands. "Now go. Do something… spectacular."

With a flash of light, Q disappeared.

****

"Captain, I have a message from Starfleet."

Jim looked over at her from his customary sprawl in his chair. "Thank you Lieutenant. Put it onscreen."

"Yes, Sir."

Kirk straightened up as Admiral Pike's somewhat amused gaze filled the _Enterprise's_ viewscreen.

"Captain Kirk. I have new orders for you. A mission that will call for the utmost in diplomacy and level-headedness." His lips twitched.

Jim blinked. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

He heard something very like a snort from Chekov's station. Sulu bent over his console as though afraid to look up. Admiral Pike's lips twitched again. "I thought you might be sick of milk runs and want to stretch your wings a little. You are to report to Gohldar IV. Negotiations for a new Federation planet have stalled, and we're hoping a visit from the flagship will prove fortuitous. They have a unique cultural perspective that the Federation feels will be quite an asset."

"Yeah. I'm sure the planet full of dilithium deposits won't hurt either."

The corners of the Admiral's eyes crinkled as he licked his lips, clearly doing his best not to laugh. He looked away from Jim and over to the science station. "Actually, there's one other thing. But you probably want to hear this with a bit more …privacy. Commander, you'll need to hear this too."

Jim looked from Spock's placid expression to the viewscreen. Spock stood up and walked to the turbolift. Jim scrambled to follow. The Enterprise had a small conference room near the bridge; Jim knew without asking that that was Spock's destination. "Lieutenant Uhura, please divert the Admiral to the staff conference room. Lieutenant Sulu, you have the con. Admiral, we'll be with you in a moment."

Jim didn't trust the expression on Pike's face. Whatever he was about to tell them was amusing the ever-loving hell out of him. Pike's elbows were on the desk, hands folded in front of his face with the pointer fingers of each hand folded over his smirk as though only he knew the punch line of a really raunchy joke.

The lift's doors whooshed open and Jim amused himself by matching Spock's steps perfectly, turning when he did and attempting to force his features into the same expressionless mask. Uhura met his gaze briefly and rolled her eyes at his immaturity. Jim just grinned and winked at her as the doors slid shut. For security reasons, the bridge was only accessible from the turbolift, causing anyone who had been there to divert themselves back to the deck accessible by all crew members. "Deck three." Spock spoke softly, remaining at his customary parade rest.

"So, what do you think Pike is gonna tell us? He looks like he's about to bust a gut."

"I have no conjecture at this time. I suggest that you attempt to remain patient and your curiosity will be assuaged when the Admiral explains."

 _Ouch._ Spock had not exactly been overly friendly towards him in the six months that they'd worked together. Jim had lost count of the number of times he had tried to make friendly overtures towards his First Officer, but each one had been met with an absolute lack of anything approaching camaraderie.

"Oh. Um, of course." Jim tried not to feel like an idiot. Spock was the only being on the ship, practically in the galaxy, that could deflate his ego with a few well-placed words. Jim didn't know why Spock's opinion mattered to him so much. He just had to accept that there was no way he and Spock were going to be friends, no matter what the interfering old man had said. They stood there in silence until the lift's doors whooshed open once again. Spock and Jim walked the few steps towards the conference room's doors and entered, still in silence. As the doors shut behind them, there was a blinding flash of white light.

****

In the next heartbeat, Jim found himself… floating in space. Well, sort of floating. He was seated on a plush chair at a table that was elegantly set for a romantic dinner. There were two places, two wine glasses, a vase of flowers and two candles on the table. Across from him sat Spock, who was looking at their surroundings with both eyebrows lost in the fringe of his bangs. Before either of them could speak, a waiter appeared with another flash of light.

"Greetings, sirs. Here are your menus. We hope you will enjoy your dining experience this fine evening." The waiter looked fairly benign. He was dressed in a very intricate set of robes, and held two menus out to both Spock and Jim as though there were nothing wrong with the whole situation. He had a somewhat receding hairline, and his bright blue gaze seemed to convey both sardonic amusement and vast curiosity.

"What the _fuck_?" Okay so maybe not the most eloquent of responses, but Jim was fairly sure it got his point across.

"Sir? Your menu?"

Jim glared at the menu, then at the waiter. He struggled in his chair, realizing he was unable to move from the squishy comfort, as though he had been glued there. "I don't want the damn menu. What's going on? Why are we here? _How_ are we here?"

The waiter rolled his eyes and set each menu down in front of both men. "I would think that it was pretty obvious."

Spock spoke for the first time. "It would appear that we are seated together for an interlude involving sustenance and mutual conversing of an amorous nature."

Jim's mouth fell open a little as he stared at his First Officer. "You mean… a date? We're here for a _date_?"

Jim kinda envied the way Spock managed to show exasperation by moving only two muscles in his face. "I believe I just said that, Captain."

"I don't want to…" Jim struggled in the chair. Part of his brain knew it was stupid, that he clearly wasn't going anywhere, but he couldn't seem to help the small rebellion. "…date you, Spock. I want to go back to my… damn… ship!"

"Oh very well. Your wish is my command, mon Capitán." The waiter smiled fondly. "I had forgotten how much I missed calling someone that." With a little smirk, there was another flash of light, and Jim found himself sitting on the saucer of the Enterprise. He didn't have time to struggle. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, rather than the instantaneous suffocation that he knew would befall him if he were actually trapped in space without the proper safety equipment. He could feel the oxygen expel itself from his body, lungs collapsing as they stopped working. His eyes grew wide as he grabbed his throat, trying to force his lungs to work. _They were_ _burning, burning oh god I'm dying this is it no air can't brea—_

And with another flash of light he was back in the plushy chair, across from Spock, still clutching his throat and gasping in sweet oxygen. He felt a small trickle of blood escape from his nose. Jim wiped at it with a shaking hand, all at once completely exhausted. If this was a hallucination, it was a fucking believable one.

"I suggest you enjoy your meal, _sirs_. You have a lovely view." The waiter gestured to the endless canvas of space that surrounded them. "A lovely meal." He nodded to the menus, still untouched over their plates. "And lovely company. Take advantage of it. Just let me know when you're ready to order." With another flash of light he was gone.

"Fascinating." Spock's tone of voice was the same he would use for a particularly puzzling antimatter conversion equation.

Jim found himself carefully moving his hand away from his throat, as though it was the only thing that was keeping him actually breathing. He wiped the small streak of blood on his uniform trousers and sat up a little in the chair.

Spock's nostrils flared as though he could smell the tang of iron. "Captain, as … illogical as the situation in which we now find ourselves may be, I see no other alternative. Perhaps we should, 'play along', to use the standard vernacular. At least until another opportunity presents itself."

Jim licked his lips. "Play along, huh?"

"Indeed." Spock reached out and picked up his menu. "Would you like me to order for you, Captain?"

 _Uh…_ Jim stared at him, blinking owlishly. Things were moving a little too quickly for him to keep up. Spock looked perfectly comfortable as he sat across from him, studying the menu. "Uh.." Was all he could manage.

"There appear to be entrees from several different planets, Captain."

"Super." Jim cautiously straightened the rest of the way in his chair, still not perfectly sure that he wouldn't be flung out into the vastness of space by doing so. He picked up his menu, glancing at it before setting it back down. "Well, dating my First Officer breaks about thirty Starfleet regulations," Jim forced a small smile at the small joke.

Spock stiffened, looking up at him over the top of the menu. Jim hadn't spent a lot of time looking into Spock's eyes. The few times he had, the Vulcan had either been belittling him, attempting to kill him, or ordering him around. When he met his eyes this time, Jim was utterly shocked to see what looked like a flash of hurt in the too-human gaze.

"Your statement is inaccurate. As two of the three top ranking members of Starfleet on board the _Enterprise_ , there is no direct regulation prohibiting a relationship between us, though there are several prohibiting fraternization between officers and their subordinates. Indeed it is for this very reason that Nyota and I ended our relationship. She was anxious to avoid the appearance of favoritism."

Jim blinked. "I didn't know that." He hadn't. Their professional relationship hadn't changed one iota since they'd been reassigned to the _Enterprise_. "Sorry, Spock."

Spock gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Your apologies are not necessary. It was a mutual decision."

Jim winced.

There was a now-familiar flash of light and the waiter appeared. "Are you two gentlemen ready to order?"

Jim watched, bemused while Spock ordered something Vulcan for himself and a double-cheeseburger with fries and all the trimmings for Jim. The waiter beamed at him and held out his hands for the menus. He snapped his fingers and their wine glasses were instantly filled. Soft music began playing in the background. A breadbasket appeared as though summoned there by magic. Jim found himself hard-pressed not to roll his eyes. He stared hard at the waiter, noticing for the first time that there was a small name tag pinned to the elaborate robes that had the letter Q written on it in old-fashioned Standard calligraphy.

"Q? Is that your name?"

The waiter bowed, smirking. "At your service, Mon Capitán. You meal will be out shortly."

"Awesome."

"Captain, may I ask a personal query?" Spock took a small sip of his wine and raised an eyebrow. He paused for a moment then took a larger sip with apparent pleasure.

Jim nodded, grabbing a breadstick out of the basket. He took a cautious bite and tried not to moan as the buttery, garlicy flavors exploded on his tongue. He didn't know how this could possibly be real, but there was no denying the taste of un-replicated food. It was incredible.

"The word 'Awesome' appears in your spoken vocabulary approximately 28% of the time. Yet clearly your facial expressions would seem to indicate that you do not find the situation 'Awesome.' Quite the reverse."

"Sarmurmpph."

Spock's eyebrow raised at just that angle made it quite clear that Jim had just done something unforgivably disgusting.

"Is speaking with your mouth full of food customary in Human dating rituals? Granted my experience with this subject is rather limited, but my mother had always taught me that it was quite uncouth."

Jim wished for a moment that he was off somewhere in space. Or, well, _farther_ off. He knew his face was bright red as he swallowed the bite of bread and took a small sip of his wine. It was exquisite, the flavor bursting on his tongue. "Your mom was right. Not a dating ritual. I'm sorry, sometimes my table manners are lacking. I learned to eat quickly when I was a kid and the habit stuck. But you have to taste these breadsticks. They're fuc… er.. great." He took another sip of wine. "And to answer your question, when I say 'Awesome it's usually sarcastic. But not always." He grinned again.

Spock took his own breadstick, and they were quiet for a moment, neither quite sure what to say. The silence grew from compatible, to awkward, to strained as they both looked around at the view. A small nebula was visible to one side of the table, a kaleidoscope of different hues folding in and around itself. The sight was breathtaking.

"So what are Vulcan dating rituals?" Jim blurted into the silence. "I mean what would you normally do?"

"I imagine much the same on a date with a Human. We share a meal, then indulge in conversation mutually beneficial to the accumulation of shared logic. And you, Captain? What do you normally do on a date?"

Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "I ahh.. can't say that I've been on many dates, really. I usually skip that part." His smile was wolfish as he grinned at Spock. Spock's eyebrow twitched in a way that managed to convey great displeasure. Jim bit back the smile immediately and assumed a facial expression more appropriate for a funeral. "But I think most of us just talk, figure out about each other's interests, maybe hold hands and make out a little…"

There was a flash of light and Q appeared, holding both of their meals on a tray balanced on his shoulder. "Here you go! Eat up." He smiled and disappeared before either Jim or Spock could ask him anything.

"Why a cheeseburger?"

"Does it not meet with your approval?"

Jim was in the process of stacking the onion, tomato and lettuce on top of the gooey, cheesy patty of meat, but looked up at Spock's question. "It does! God it does. It looks fucking incredible. I was just surprised that you knew this was my favorite. The replicators always try, but they can't quite get it exactly right. And Bones freaks out whenever he sees me eat one. He calls them 'death in your col-' er… well. Nevermind. But he's not a fan." He smooshed the bun down over the towering burger and picked the whole thing up. Grease and a little juice from the burger dripped down his hand. Jim switched his grip to a one-handed and licked the side of his hand, closing his eyes as the flavors burst on his tongue. "Ohhh. God. This is so good."

With his eyes shut, he missed the way Spock's eyes widened, and the slight, sudden intake of breath.

Jim began to eat, unable to help the tiny little moans and other appreciative noises quiet as he devoured his dinner.

Spock, a vegetarian who normally wouldn't be at all interested watching anyone eat meat, could not look away, watching Jim's startlingly blue eyes go half-lidded, hearing the breathy little moans he repeated as ate. "I… remembered. Sir. From the meal we shared while in San Francisco. You ordered the same thing."

Jim put down the burger and paused, wiping his mouth on his napkin. He remembered the dinner very well. The entire bridge crew, plus McCoy, had all shown up for dinner and drinks before the hearing that had given Jim his _Enterprise_. Spock had shown up with Uhura and had sat a little apart from everyone, clearly observing their antics.

"Well, thanks. This is incredible. Is your food as good?"

Spock looked down at his untouched plate and began eating, cutting his food into precise pieces before swallowing. "Indeed."

Jim picked up his burger again, but before he could actually take another bite, there was the familiar flash of light.

****

When it cleared, he and Spock were standing in the conference room, the sound of the doors shutting behind them still echoing in the small space.

Jim was still holding the last bit of the cheeseburger; Spock was still in the process of chewing his bite of vegetables.

"Captain, I have the Admiral when you're ready."

Jim craned his neck around the room as though expecting Q to jump out of the bulkhead. "Uh… sure, Uhura. Thanks."

"Yes sir."

The conference room had a large viewscreen, an only slightly smaller version of the main viewscreen on the Bridge. It took up the entirety of one wall of the conference room. The far wall had a view of space. The other wall had some computer equipment and a replicator, and the door they just walked in was directly opposite the viewscreen, so that when Christopher Pike was transferred to the conference room, he had a full view of Spock and Jim standing side by side, Jim still clutching his half-eaten cheeseburger.

He looked from the Vulcan who politely swallowed the bite of food, to the young Captain who looked as though someone had just pulled a very elaborate trick on him. "What, did you guys stop off for snacks? Have a seat."

Jim collapsed into a chair, staring wild-eyed at Pike. He looked at the cheeseburger, sniffing it suspiciously. He started to set it on the table and thought better of it, staring helplessly around for something on which to place it.

Spock didn't roll his eyes, but his eyebrow spoke volumes as he walked the few steps to the replicator and ordered a small cloth. He handed it to his Captain without a word and sat down, focusing his attention to the viewscreen as though he hadn't just spent the better part of an hour floating around in space with his Captain.

"So… yeah. Your first real mission. I meant it when I said it was going to take some diplomacy. Thank god you have Spock there to keep you from doing anything improper."

"Hey! I took _and_ passed all those classes on the command track." Jim picked absently at a piece of the cheeseburger, popping it into his mouth and moaning a little in joy as it hit his taste buds. He opened his eyes to find Pike staring at him as though he'd lost his mind, and Spock with one eyebrow raised so high that Jim thought he might have accidentally sprained the darn thing.

"Yes, of course you did Jim. But this… is a little different. Starfleet is not normally in the habit of catering to the needs of individual Federation hopefuls, but in this case…" He trailed off, looking unhappy for a moment. He sighed. "In this case, we don't have much of a choice. Nero's insanity has left us without a good many of the supplies we have come to depend on. Finding new deposits of those minerals, such as dilithium, has become a priority. Your mission, Jim is to go and get those Gohdarians firmly on the side of the Federation. There is man, a Ruler Jordun who has… asked for you specifically."

Jim blinked again, picking at a pickle and popping it in his mouth. He chewed, then swallowed."Wow. That's a long way to go for a booty call."

Pike looked pained.

"I'm sorry, sir. A 'booty call'?"

"I'll explain it later, Spock. Why would they ask for me, Chris? That seems really weird. I mean, I am pretty new at this whole Captain thing, but they asked for me… specifically?"

"You did sort of save the Earth, Jim."

Jim stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, beginning to pace back and forth as he thought. He could feel the Admiral's and Spock's eyes following him as he burnt off some of his nervous energy. "It still sounds a little like a booty call, Admiral. It wasn't like I was alone in… doing all that. Why me? Why not Spock? Or Chekov? Or Sulu? Everyone did everything so well, like some well-oiled machine…" He trailed off.

"Well, Jim I do have a video that might answer that question." There was a look of such unholy joy on the Admiral's face that even Spock raised his eyebrow with curiosity.

"Awesome." Jim flopped back down in his seat and started picking at his cheeseburger again, watching as Pike cued up the holovid.

"Is this on? Hello? Hello?" The sound of feedback caused both Spock and Jim to wince. "Hi! My name is Jordun Kah'ous. I am the Head Council of the Governors of Gohdar IV." The humanoid that was speaking looked to be roughly twenty-two or twenty-three years of Terran age. He had several earrings in one ear and had long, flowing bright blue hair, cut to showcase his perfect heart-shaped face. His skin was also a pale blue, with large doe-like eyes. He didn't seem to have a nose, instead breathing through small gill-like openings on the sides of his neck. "I know that we are in heavy negotiations with your Federation of Planets. The Elders say that joining with your Federation could bring danger to our planet, that it would wipe out our natural resources and assimilate our culture. I disagree." He tilted his head, looking into the camera with all the earnestness of youth. "I followed your news broadcasts quite closely. I know quite a bit about your history and your culture. In particular I have come to admire a Captain in your Starfleet. His name is James. T. Kirk."

Jim fought the urge to sink down in his seat.

"He is a beautiful man. Very brave and noble. I would like to get to know such a fine specimen of your Federation." The boy-ruler on the screen looked blissful. He ran a bright blue tongue over his lips and looked adoringly at the photograph he was holding. It was Jim, wearing his red Academy uniform, grinning unabashedly into the camera. His smile seemed very white in his tan face. Jordun sighed gustily and then seemed to remember he was addressing someone on camera. He made a strange trilling sound, as though he were clearing his throat. "I do have a controlling vote on our council. There are many younger members who feel can see the benefits of a close partnership," the boy said eyes running over Jim's picture, "With the Federation. I eagerly await your response. Jordun Kah'ous, out." The holovid went blank. Admiral Pike's face appeared again in the viewscreen. He wasn't even trying to hide his laughter at this point. Jim, watching horrified from his conference chair squirmed lower in his seat.

"Oh my god. Awesome. This is… _oh my god_. So my first real mission is… to Planet Fanboy? Chris? _Admiral_? Admiral, it is really unprofessional to laugh like that during a debriefing. Also, I hate you."

Both of Spock's eyebrows were raised as he watched the interplay between the two men.

The Admiral was laughing hard now, unable to actually unable to speak coherently. He just nodded, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezing with the effort of trying to speak, wagging a finger in Jim's direction.

Jim _thunked_ his head against the table. "I am so glad Bones hasn't seen this. He would be playing that at every party for the rest of my natural life." He raised his head. "Fine. We'll divert our course over to our ' _highly sensitive diplomatic mission'_. You bastard. Kirk out."

Jim looked forlornly at the rest of his cheeseburger. It was mostly gone, aside from a slight piece of burnt cheese and the crispy bun it had sat on.

The silence in the conference room was a relief.

"Kirk to Ensign Chekov. Please plot in a course for the coordinates sent with the Admiral's transmission. Thanks. Kirk out." He took a deep breath, looking over at his First Officer. "Well, Spock. I don't know what to discuss first. I mean, that cheeseburger is real. Unless I'm still dreaming or something, which is possible I guess."

"Captain, there is an infinitesimal likelihood that we could be sharing the exact same hallucination. However, the physical remnants of our meal together were indeed as you say…real. Far more curious would be this being's motivation for…"

A flash of light interrupted Spock's speech.

****

"Are you kidding me?!"

"Captain, I request that you do… not… move." Spock's comment sounded suspiciously like an order. Jim's eyes, which had squeezed shut immediately after the slight ringing accompanying the flash of light faded, popped open in surprise.

There was a gust of wind. Jim's fingers clutched convulsively on the rope. His eyes slammed shut again.

They had appeared in a lush jungle. This wouldn't have been enough to cause Jim's panic, except for the fact that he was caught in a net… with his First Officer.

Suspended several hundred feet off the ground.

The net had initially been loose enough that there had been a good five inches or so separating the two men from touching, but when Jim had opened his eyes to see himself dangling from the large tree, his panic had caused him to tighten his hands on the rope net. His quick motion had caused the net to start to swing, swaying in the wind. It also caused the net to tighten around them.

"I'm not…I can't…" Jim fisted his hands still tighter on the net, wincing when the ropes around his back, butt and thighs also tightened, in effect pushing him towards Spock.

"Captain. Jim. I suspect this will be quite unpleasant for the both of us if I am not able to sufficiently solidify my shields. Please. Try not to move."

Jim did try, he really did, but he could feel the silvery sharp bursts of panic sneaking in past his defenses. "Wh-why unpleasant? I'm not that horrible to be around, right? Although I think I have some onion breath left over. Oh god why does the wind have to be blowing? I hate wind. Wind is now the suckiest thing, ever."

Jim could hear Spock gritting his teeth. He tried to shut his mouth from babbling, not wanting to piss the Vulcan off. Again. He forced his breath out, then sucked it back in slowly.

"As I am sure you are aware," Spock's voice, which had slid into his lecture mode, was calm. "My species are touch telepaths, Captain. Coming into full body contact without sufficient shielding would be quite… regrettable."

"Oh." Jim peeked out of one eye. Spock looked completely calm, aside from the small muscle ticking in his jaw. Jim watched it, fascinated. "So does it have to be skin-to-skin contact or can you pick things up randomly?"

"My training in Vulcan mental exercises has assured complete control in my facilities. I simply required a moment to…" The wind gusted again, sending the ropes creaking. Jim squeaked, flinging out his arms, tightening his fingers on the ropes. Predictably, the ropes tightened, pushing the two men closer, sending arms and legs tangling together. Jim tried extremely hard to arrange himself so that his bare skin didn't touch any part of Spock's bare skin.

"Um, shit. Sorry." Jim's face was pressed against Spock's chest, his mouth almost directly where his heart would be were he wholly human.

"Indeed. I find your statement, while metaphorically and graphically unpleasant, to be not entirely inaccurate."

They were quiet for a moment. Jim smiled into Spock's chest. "So can you read my mind?"

"Negative. Although I do have a personal query."

"Um, you can just ask. You don't need to get permission. I don't mind."

"Your actions would seem to indicate you are panicked. Given your previous actions, I find this sudden reaction… illogical."

Jim shifted, wincing as the rope cut into his arm. "Don't freak out, but I need to move my arm a little." He did, resting his wrist lightly against Spock's sharp hip bone. "I just have.. a thing with heights. Sorry Spock, I know this is still completely awkward for you."

"Please explain. You, Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Olson jumped out of a shuttlecraft over my planet to land on the drilling device moments before the planet… expired."

Jim shifted, feeling uncomfortable. He had a sudden clear memory of Spock's face as he beamed back, still reaching for his mother. "Well. That was different. Trust me, I was still scared shitless, but that needed to be done. I didn't have time to be scared." This was true. The six months of nightmares where he and Sulu crashed into the middle of Vulcan came later. The wind kicked up again, causing the small net to swing wildly. Jim bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of vertigo.

Spock's voice was strangely gentle when he spoke. "Captain, please do not be alarmed. I will not let you fall."

Jim felt one of Spock's arms rest on his shoulders, while the other came to rest on his hip, mirroring his own.

He gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah, but what about you?"

"I will not let me fall either."

Jim's eyes popped wide open. He would have tilted his head back to see Spock's expression, but the ropes were too tight. He snorted, resting his forehead against Spock's chest again. They were quiet for a moment, the only sound the rush of wind though the leaves of the tree and the occasional rocking sound of the ropes.

"Sorry about this." Jim said again. He wasn't sure why he whispered, but it seemed appropriate.

"You are not at fault."

"Still, being stuck so intimately with one of your least favorite, overly emotional humans must be… well. 'Less than pleasant', to coin a phrase."

There were several beats of silence. Jim concentrated on his breathing, slowly feeling his panic drain away. Instead of their situation being terrifying, he slowly felt more and more comforted. Every time he started to feel embarrassed or nervous, Spock would move his wrist, or adjust his hand as it rested on Jim's shoulder, and the feeling of embarrassment would dissipate.

"When I was young," Spock's voice was also pitched low enough as to not disturb the strangely tranquil mood. "My mother would insist that I help her in her garden. Particularly, she was not fond of a specific type of arachnid that thrived near her roses. Indeed, she would insist that they would follow her around with the intent of doing her physiological and psychological harm. I did not understand her aversion to the lifeform, as she made a specific point of cultivating the roses, their natural habitat, so that they would grow in the harsh climate of my home."

Jim's eyes were wide again. He bit his lip to keep from speaking.

"On my sixth birthday, I desired to study this arachnid so that I could better understand my mother's aversion to the species. I went early into her garden and began to capture each and every one that I could find. There were thirty-six, all in various stages of growth. I had used a specific kind of specimen jar that allowed them to move around freely. My tutor called me to my studies, and I placed the jar near my bed. It was perhaps unfortunate that my mother chose that particular day to clean my room; an unnecessary practice in which she nonetheless insisted on partaking."

Spock waited a moment.

"It was perhaps more unfortunate that I had not fully secured the lid on the jar. Her scream was quite… piercing."

Jim couldn't help the snort and grin.

"I do understand the human concept of 'having a phobia', Jim, and your reaction is not something you are able to control."

Jim was silent for a moment; processing the fact that Spock had basically just told him a story to make him feel better. "So… do you have a theory on why this is happening? To us, I mean. It's kinda weird."

"It would seem that this being _,_ this, Q, is inquisitive about aspects of our behavior. While his methods of experimentation are highly illogical, they do seem to be producing results."

Jim yawned, rubbing his rose against Spock's chest in lieu of being able to cover his mouth. "'sults?"

Spock cleared his throat and shifted slightly away from Jim's body. He moved his hand so that it brushed against the back of Jim's neck with a feather light touch. It was his duty, after all, to ascertain the captain's mental state, and this was the most expedient way of doing so. The touch was so light that Spock could only read the very topmost of Jim's thoughts. He caught a brief jumble of _/warm/content/sleepy_ , and allowed himself the smallest sense of satisfaction, feeling gratified that he had managed to help his Captain in separating himself from the chaotic feelings of panic and terror from earlier.

Spock waited a few more moments to compose his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was the barest rumble of sound. "Indeed. He has provided a situation and I would postulate is watching us, waiting to see how we react to each situation." Spock could feel by the gradual heaviness of the captain's limbs and the deep, even breathing indicating that the human had fallen asleep.

It was a cruel jolt to experience the flash of light again, leaving them back in the brightly-lit conference room. They appeared instantly, still tangled together. They both landed on their feet, springing apart, the easy, intimate connection from moments ago completely forgotten. Jim ran a hand along the back of his neck, completely disoriented, and humiliated that he had actually fallen asleep. He could feel himself blushing. All the embarrassment he had kept at bay while in the net flooded back in a rush.

"I'm... ah. Just going to… go. To my quarters. I have some paperwork to catch up on." He was babbling again, but couldn't stifle the desire to escape from the awkwardness of their situation. "Talk to you later, Spock." Without waiting for an explanation, he turned and left, practically jogging down the corridor in his haste.

Spock stared after him. Slowly, he bent over to pick up a leaf that had been lodged in his Captain's hair, curling his fingers around it protectively.

****

With a flash of light, Q and Guinan appeared in what looked like an office. Q sat at a desk, hair in disarray. . There was a mug of what smelled like coffee, growing cold near his elbow. He had found a pair of glasses, which sat perched on the end of his nose. His shoulders were hunched over the desk, the lone lamp illuminating the large stack of books scattered all over the surface of the desk. Q would reach for one, flip through several pages, and make a note on a pad of paper sitting next to him. He could be heard muttering faintly under his breath.

Guinan stretched a little, peering over Q's shoulder. "He's using … _these_ … for research?"

The other Q nodded, already bored with the scene. "It would appear so. Why. Is something amiss?"

Guinan looked over at the stack of books. All of them seemed to be roughly the same length. They had been loosely organized into two separate piles. One pile had bright red covers, with pictures of attractive men and women in various compromising situations. On each one the couple seemed to be looking broodingly into one another's eyes, or stormily off into the distance. The other, larger, pile had one thing in common. Each of the overly muscled men on the cover seemed to have wardrobe issues. Various shades of voluminous shirts, tucked haphazardly into tight breeches, seemed to be blowing off of their shoulders in a way that revealed wide stripes of manly, muscled chest.

She grinned widely. "Oh, no. Nothing's _amiss,_ exactly. In fact,I think this will be quite educational for him." She grabbed a couple of the paperback books and stuffed them into her pocket, noticing that several parts in each book had a folded-over page.

Q, still completely oblivious to their presence, was muttering under his breath again. The look on his face was pure determination.

***

"What the hell is your problem?"

"Hi Bones."

"Hi yourself. What's the deal, kid? You've been moping around my Sickbay for twenty minutes."

"I was not _moping_. Captains do not _mope_."

"Bullshit."

Jim made a face at his friend's back. He followed Bones into his office, staring blindly at the weird skulls and artifacts displayed on the shelves behind him. There was a picture of his daughter, a few PADDs of medical journals, and a whole lot of empty space. Leonard McCoy was not one to accumulate a lot of knickknacks. The door swished shut behind him and Jim sprawled in one of the uncomfortable visitors' chairs. Jim knew that Bones kept them uncomfortable on purpose, to discourage anyone from staying too long. Jim had been the one to sign off on the chair swap.

"Bones… I have. A problem. A _big_ problem."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Itchy, burning sensation? Any pustules?"

"Oh forget it." Jim sprung up, frowning. He turned away, missing the look of surprise on his friend's face.

"Hey. Wait a minute, Jim. Sit. Relax. Jesus." Bones half-stood with alarm.

"No, it's fine." He ran his hands through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "I'll catch you later. I've got Bridge duty." He forced a smile that didn't fool Bones for an instant and walked out of Sickbay, walking quickly with his shoulders hunched over.

"Doctor? I'm sorry for the interruption, but Ensign Lowery is having complications."

"Damnit." By the time Bones was free from his duties, Alpha shift was almost over and he had forgotten about the strange scene in his office, distracted by his own duties as Chief Medical Officer.

 *****

Jim hadn't been able to concentrate on the PADD full of paperwork. He kept darting little glances over to the science station where Spock worked, as efficiently as always. Jim had been jumpy, nervously twitching at every electronic beep from the computers on the Bridge, half-expecting to be beamed or zapped or whatever-the-fuck-was-happening away at each sound.

He quickly glanced at the chronometer. He had twenty minutes left of his shift left. . Never in the history of Man had twenty minutes seemed so long. With a frustrated sigh, he set the PADD aside and began to make his way around the Bridge, getting reports from station after station. His crew, used to his need to burn off excess energy, reported their findings, answered questions and generally ignored the fact that they could have accomplished the same thing by simply sending the report into the Captain's workstation.

Jim was able to think and work at the same time, a fact that he had rarely appreciated until now. He could count on one hand the number of times that Spock had shared anything personal with him. Willingly. Hell, one of those times it wasn't even _his_ Spock that had shared- rather an alternate, older version of himself. Spock was one of the most private people he knew. The fact that it had taken almost three entire months and a strange god-like being with unknown power to make Spock reveal anything personal about himself was…

… well, fucking sad, actually. Wasn't that his job? As a Captain, or even as a friend, wasn't that his _job_ to secure a working relationship with his senior officers? He hadn't even been able to begin that task with Spock. He knew Uhura loved to dance. She would dance for fun, for exercise and relaxation. Sulu had cultivated badassery to a fine science when it came to his fencing, but would still wibble like a five-year old with a new kitten when a new plant was introduced into the botany labs. Chekov wasn't a senior officer, but given that he had been such an important part of their first mission together, Jim had taken special pains to get to know him. They had discussed Tolstoy and Pavlova. Jim knew Chekov was passionate about the new advances in transporter technology, and completely understood _why_ he had such a desire to know everything. It was the same reason Chekov usually avoided Spock when he could, his normally bright eyes subdued and guilt-ridden. Bones. . . well. He knew more about him than anyone else on the ship. Scotty was easy- all he needed was a blind eye when it came to his stills and an open ear when it came to warp engines.

But Spock…? He knew nothing… except that Spock had once scared the bejesus out of his mother with some spiders.

"Report, Commander."

Jim was standing there, watching as Spock opened his mouth to answer him, when the familiar flash of light obliterated any sense of self. He shut his eyes.

***

He smelled horses.

This was extremely unfortunate, given that anything in the equine family was on Bones's "Code Red" list of Jim's allergies. Once, when Jim was little, he had assumed that riding a horse would feel both relaxing and calming. He'd thought that he would make an excellent cowboy. Jim hadn't taken into account the bony spine, pointed neck or long, flowing mane- that tended to end up right in his mouth, causing him to spit out the hair with a disgusted look on his face. He looked down, noting that from the view, he was draped over the horse… in someone's lap.

Jim would recognize those long, capable fingers anywhere.

"OH _HELL_ NO!" Jim couldn't move quickly enough; he was sliding down off of the horse before he had even finished his outraged screech of rage. He landed on his ass in the middle of a mud puddle with a swish of fabric.

Spock was gaping at him.

On any other day of the week, Jim could have cheerfully had an argument with him about whether or not Vulcans did, indeed, gape. On any other day of the week, Spock would respond with cold indifference to Jim's cheerful, instant exuberance- see? Your eyes are wide, your mouth is hanging open, your ears are still Vulcany- ergo, Vulcans gape. But on any other day of the week, Jim would not have chosen to wear… a dress.

Jim's eyes squeezed shut. He froze, wincing inwardly. At least he thought it was a dress. It was a shade of fuchsia that he'd only seen a few times. There were what appeared to be ruffles. It had a very low-cut bodice that, had Jim actually had breasts, would have flattered them to their utmost advantage. Since he didn't, the deep V of the bodice went down almost to his belly button. The bodice was skin-tight, off his shoulders and flowing down to gossamer sleeves. The skirt was gathered at the waist, with more ruffles adorning the draped fabric. It seemed to be slit up his thigh, showing off the delicate pink stockings and sturdy kid riding boots. His knee, looking rather bony even in the lacy undergarments, stuck out of the slit in the skirt. Jim had a strange urge to adjust his skirts so that he wasn't flashing anything too shocking.

Jim raised his stunned eyes to Spock's. From his vantage point on the cold ground his gaze traveled up one booted leg. The leather went up to just over Spock's knee, ending in black leather breeches. Tucked into the breeches was a white, blousey shirt, unlaced enough to show a smattering of chest hair. Spock was still staring at him, two splotches of green very prominent high on his cheekbones. The horse, uncaring of the situation in which it now found itself, walked forward a few steps, stopping near where Jim sat, stunned. Spock, with a grace that seemed distinctly unfair to Jim given his current position, moved with the horse, his hips rocking with the motion of the beast's walk.

Jim licked his lips.

"Spock. If my ass didn't hurt right now, and if my face wasn't swelling shut because of the damn horse, I would ask you to pinch me. Because whoever the fuck is doing this? Sucks." He stood up, trying to smooth out his skirt so that it wouldn't be wrinkled. The rustling sound of the material was muffled in the crack of thunder that appeared almost out of nowhere.

Jim knew he probably looked ridiculous with his hands fisted on his hips. He didn't care. His eyes narrowed. He started to open his mouth, when a hefty sneeze interrupted his impending tirade. He gave the horse a truly evil look and took two steps back away from it. At least he tried to. Having never worn high heels before (well except that one time which he didn't ever really discuss) Jim misjudged his step and collapsed onto the ground with a cry of pain. He sneezed again, and felt his throat start to close. Spock moved as though to swing his leg off of the horse, but before he could there was a smaller flash of light and the horse disappeared, leaving Spock standing there, fiddling absently with a riding crop.

"Captain, did you injure yourself?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that, Spock. I'm beginning to think that I really, seriously pissed someone off."

Spock crouched down low, feeling at Jim's ankle through the boot. Jim hissed, and sucked in his breath hard, unable to hide his reaction to the pain of Spock's touch.

"Oh fuck me. Ouch. _Ouch_!" He yanked his ankle away from Spock's fingers.

"Captain, your infantile reaction is illogical. You have most likely broken your ankle. I would remove the boot, but I believe the laces are helping to effectively bind the appendage so that it has support." Spock gasped a little when Jim grabbed his wrist. He yanked his wrist out of Jim's hand, breaking their connection. Another rumble of thunder roared in counterpoint. Jim saw Spock shiver a little at the sudden drop in temperature.

Jim cursed again, remembering the touch telepathy. "Shit, Spock. I'm sorry. When I get nervous I tend to get a little touchy-feely."

"Understood. Can you stand?"

"I… think so." He cautiously tested his ankle. No, it wouldn't take any of his weight. Jim started to lose his balance, but before he could, Spock's arm came around his back, steadying him so that Jim leaned into his body, his weight off of his ankle.

The first fat drops of rain began to fall, slowly at first then with an almost furious rate of speed. The rain was _cold_. Jim held back a shiver with effort.

"Captain, I suggest that we find some sort of sh-shelter." Spock looked around, spying what looked to be a barn a few hundred meters away from their position. "If you will allow me to carry you, I believe I can have us there in approximately four minutes and twenty-three seconds."

"Approximately, huh? Well forget it. You go ahead. There's no way in hell you're carrying me like some swooning maiden across the threshold. I'll get there in eighteen point three minutes. Or fifteen point thirty-two hours. Whatever." Jim jerked away from Spock's supportive hold. He almost fell flat on his face as his good foot squelched in the mud, but managed to keep his balance by pinwheeling his arms, hearing a rip in the tight fabric of the bodice. He began a slow, painful limp towards the distant shelter. "And just why do I have to be the girl in this situation? Is it because I fuck guys? I bet it's because I fuck guys. Asshole. Suck one dick and they stick you in a dress forever. That kind of thinking went out of fashion over _two hundred_ fucking years ago!" Jim shook his fist at the sky, and got a faceful of rain for his efforts. "Well, you listen here you idiot excuse for a god or a devil or whatever the fuck you are… GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Jim wobbled off, each step causing him to pale as the pain from his broken ankle hit him in the gut.

"C-c-captain. Your obstinacy is not b-b-beneficial to either of us."

Jim glared mutinously over at Spock, who stood, staring at him with his eyes still widened from Jim's outburst. The blush on his cheeks had traveled up to the very tips of his ears, causing them to fairly glow green. Jim growled something under his breath and turned, continuing to squelch through the mud. He saw a log in his way, and taking an extra careful step, darted a look out of the corner of his eye at Spock, who stood hunched in on himself, visually shivering from the icy cold rain. What was cold for a human was clearly torturous for a Vulcan, whose core body heat was several degrees higher.

_Well, shit._

Jim stopped short, frowning. He watched Spock shudder from the cold for another minute, then cringed. "Spock. I… uh, oh damn. My ankle is really hurting. Is the offer to help me still open?"

Spock had turned to scoop him up in his arms almost before Jim had finished speaking. He took off for the shelter at a quick clip, jumping over fallen logs and rocks, his smooth gait not causing Jim one second of pain. Jim had been on hovercars that didn't run this well. As Spock ran, Jim was only conscious of a few sensory images- the heat against his back as Spock ran. The slight puff of air on his sodden hair as Spock breathed. The feel of Spock's arms, one hooked under his back, near his waist, and the other under his knees, keeping him curled protectively into Spock's chest.

It was nice. Even if it _did_ make him feel like a total girl.

The barn was not the sturdy structure that it had looked like from a distance. It had collapsed on itself, and Spock refused to step one foot inside, citing several instances of just how structurally unsound it was. Instead he walked over to what looked to be a small overhang and pressed against the cool stone of the wall, huddling back as far as he could to get out of the rain.

Jim wiggled a little and Spock set him on his feet, carefully, making sure that Jim had his balance before letting go, crossing his arms over his chest, still violently shivering.

"Shit, Spock, are you okay? Are you going to get sick from this?"

"Vulcans do not get 'sick'. I will be at a perfectly acceptable health as long as my ambient temperature is able to rise within the next ten minutes."

Jim stared up at Spock for a moment, thinking. Spock's already flat hair was completely soaked, little rivulets of rain dripping down his nose and ears down the sides of his neck. The white shirt was now sheer. Jim could see the little whorls of hair on Spock's arms though the material, and stared for a minute at the flexing of muscles as Spock tried to hold onto any body heat that he could by crossing his arms over his chest. His teeth were clenched, forcing his face into a frown. Between the ears and the drenched hair, Spock looked like a seriously pissed-off cat that had been left outside in the rain.

"You will suh-suh-cease to compare me to your Terran f-f-feline." Spock's frown became even more pronounced. Jim realized that the clacking sound he was hearing was Spock's teeth chattering together.

He looked around, not seeing any other shelter. There was nothing to burn, no way to warm him up. Jim stepped a little closer, rubbing his hands briskly over Spock's shoulders, down his arms, and back up, quickly trying to create some sort of friction. Spock made a sound in the back of his throat and flattened himself back into the wall.

"Sorry, man. I know you are not a big fan of the touching. And god knows what you're picking up from my idiotic brain right now." Jim tried to take another step forward, thinking that at least his body would have some body heat for Spock to absorb, but slipped with the heel of his boot, causing him to lose his balance again. He grabbed Spock, grunting a little when their bodies slid against each other, Jim falling into Spock's side. He moved back to a distance that wouldn't freak out his prudish First Officer. "So, this guy? I wonder why he feels he has to torment us this way. You're about to freeze to death. It's not fair. None of this is fair to you. I keep apologizing but. . . " He stopped moving his hands over Spock's shoulders, reaching down and grabbing Spock's hands. He squeezed them once and then pressed them to his chest, chaffing the backs of them, curling over them so that he could huff a hot breath to try and warm them up. "I really am sorry, Spock."

Spock swallowed hard, his eyes blinking open for just a moment, seeing Jim's head bowed over his hands as he tried to warm him. When he looked up, Spock's eyes slid closed at the look of earnestness on Jim's face. Spock's fingers twitched, and it was Jim's turn to suck in a startled breath as the very tips of Spock's fingers brushed against Jim's nipples, outlined in sharp contrast from the drenched fabric of his dress. Jim's eyes widened- his gaze suddenly very blue in the semi-darkness from the thunderstorm. Spock watched the human's tongue come out to nervously moisten his chapped lips. Spock watched, fascinated as Jim's gaze seemed to draw closer to his own….

When the white light came, startlingly incandescent, encompassing every bit of their existence, it was hardly a surprise to either one of them. When it cleared, they sprang almost violently apart, Jim crying out as his ankle twisted again, his leg starting to buckle underneath him. Spock reached out to grab him, his instinct the only thing keeping Jim upright.

There were several gasps as the crew got a good look at the wet, bedraggled, oddly-dressed pair.

"Seriously? Fuck my life." Jim glared around at his crew. "Not one word. Not _one_ or you will be doing Gamma shift for the next six months. Kirk to McCoy. I broke my goddamn ankle. Meet me in front of the turbolift. Sulu, you have the con. Spock, let's go." He hobbled to the lift, Spock walking just behind him.

***

It took Bones at least three full minutes to stop laughing. He would look from Jim, huddled on the biobed with his arms crossed over his chest, to Spock who hovered at his side, then do a once over from Jim's head to his feet. He would make it to the stockings peeking out of the slit in Jim's dress before losing it.

"I hate you. You know this, right?" Jim grunted a little when Bones cut off the boot.

He bit his lip and sucked in his breath at the throbbing pain. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spock twitch as though fighting the urge to take a step forward.

"Damnit Jim, you really did a number on this ankle. You wanna tell me how the hell you two managed to get in this situation?"

"No." Jim's eyebrows narrowed.

"Well aren't we the grouchy little princess."

"Bite me. _You_ try being cheerful while there's a thong flossing your ass." Jim rolled his eyes at Bones as the other man snorted and started chuckling again. But his fingers were extremely gentle as he examined the broken bone.

"Excuse me, Captain but what is a tho—aaah, _achoo_!"

There was complete silence in the Sickbay as everyone looked for the source of the tiny, high-pitched sneeze.

Bones stared at Spock, who stood at rigid attention with one hand clasped over his mouth and nose, eyes widened with shock. Bones, however, looked as though thirty-seven birthdays and Christmases had come all at once, bearing copious amounts of alcohol. "Spock… do you have a _cold_?"

There was a small sniff of derision. "My research would seem to indicate that you do, indeed, have a medical degree. Perhaps you can elucidate. Otherwise, the Human tendency to supplant any tenuous grasps of logic with stunning bouts of redundancy will never cease to fascinate me."

Bones blinked. "Aw, Spock," he drawled. "I didn't know you cared."

"Aaa- _choo_!" Spock's brows drew together. His mouth twitched. He turned on one heel and stalked out of Sickbay, moving briskly around Nurse Chapel, who did a double take and almost dropped the tray she was holding. Her eyes followed Spock in the wet, tight breeches as he walked. She swallowed once, hard.

"And get some rest!" Bones called out after him, grinning up at Jim who lounged back a little on his hands. He absently grabbed the regenerator and ran it gently over Jim's ankle. Jim sat up and started unlacing the other boot, kicking it off his foot with a dull _thunk_. He stripped off the pink stocking and tossed it onto Bones's head.

"So… cross-dressing?" Bones took off the stocking, making a face and tossing it onto the floor.

"It's kinda hard to explain." Jim pressed one finger to his ear and wiggled it, trying to remove the water that had collected there. "Just believe me when I say that there is someone, who... well, I don't think he means us harm exactly. But he's sort of fucking with us." Jim gestured to the sodden dress. "Clearly. Do you think I should check up on Spock?"

"Do you have a death wish?"

"Hmm. _Ouch!_ Watch it!"

"Quit being such a damn baby." Bones pressed lightly against the ankle, testing its tenderness. He grabbed another instrument and grumbled something under his breath, then waited a few minutes and yanked on Jim's foot. It popped, but didn't hurt. "Wear this splint for two hours. No compla- _what the hell are you doing_?"

Jim had stood up and was in the process of taking off the dress. His voice was muffled. "Get me some scrubs." He tossed the dress into a pile, ignoring the wet squelching sound it made as it slid against the floor. He bent over to remove the final stocking.

There was another crash from one of the other Sickbay cubicles.

"My God man. Take these." Bones tossed a pair of trousers to Jim who grinned at him unabashedly. He put them on and tied the drawstring, turning to limp out of Sickbay. Bones shook his head, staring after his friend.

"Guess he was kidding about the thong."

***

Jim was exhausted. He lay in his bunk, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Too many things had happened in the past few hours. It seemed unbelievable that the date, the net and the… well… _ginormous clusterfuck_ had all happened instantly. Each episode had seemed to be in real time. Spock had been right- this time his entire bridge crew had seen him and Spock disappear, and then reappear in a blinding flash of light. Crew members were starting to mutter under their breath about being kidnapped from their beds. Jim rolled over and punched his pillow.

He swallowed hard, remembering that quick jolt of heat when Spock had moved his hands onto his chest. Spock had looked like an incarnation of some of Jim's more pornographic wet dreams. He winced, remembering the way he had acted, childish behavior that had probably caused Spock's illness. Jim frowned. Poor Spock. He didn't think the Vulcan had ever been sick before. Part of him wanted to go and check on him, while part was afraid that Spock would break him in half for the crap Jim had put him though.

He sighed. He was not good at passively waiting for things to happen to him. But what else could he do? The Q guy hadn't shown up since the first time, preferring to work from behind the scenes. If he showed up again, Jim would work out some of his frustrations. On his face. He smirked, shutting his eyes and finally starting to relax.

"You wish, Human." Neither the accompanying flash of light, nor the spoken, sardonic words made an impression on Jim as he slipped into sleep.

***

Jim sighed, not fully awake. He was curled on his side, a warm weight pressed up against him from his neck to his legs. That was kind of weird. Jim didn't usually wake up with other people in his bed, preferring to keep things uncomplicated –either by going to his own bed after sex, or by gently (and sometimes not so gently) urging his bed-partner to get a move on with his or her own walk of shame so that he could have his bed to himself.

This was nice, though. He was warm enough that he had kicked off his blankets in the middle of the night, but the body heat from whoever he had slept with was keeping him perfectly comfortable. He made a sleepy sound and pressed back into the body behind him. An arm slid slowly over his chest, warm fingers resting against his abdomen, pulling him back and angling him so that Jim could feel the hot length pressed up against his ass. Jim wiggled a little, a sleepy grin on his face, legs moving a little restlessly.

The hand drifted down, brushing against his half-hard cock. Jim couldn't help the moan that filled the room when the person behind him licked at the back of his neck, lightly scraping their teeth against the spot, pressing their lower bodies together even more firmly. Jim brought his arm back, trailing his fingers over the other person's waist, stroking over the strong arm and tangling his fingers with his bedmate's. This was possibly the best dream ever.

There was a gasp from behind him.

"Dr. McCoy to Captain Kirk."

"Aaa- _choo_!"

Jim's eyes flew open in horror and then slammed shut in humiliating realization as Spock jerked away, scrambling of the bed. His mattress dipped, there was the rush of feet against the carpet, and he heard the door of their shared bathroom _whoosh_ open and closed.

"Kirk here," Jim croaked, flopping onto his back.

"Lieutenant Jefferies from Gamma paged me, Jim. Are you planning on going to work today?"

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. I'll be there in fifteen. Kirk out."

Spock. Oh Jesus, he had… they had… but _how_? Why would Spock come into his room while he was asleep? Jim gave his cock a dirty look as it grew harder. He bit his lip and shivered, remembering Spock's mouth on him, the feel of Spock's cock as it pressed against his body. Jim shuddered, wrapping his fingers around himself.

He watched as a clear drop of fluid welled up from the slit. Jim rubbed his thumb over it, spreading it around, changing his grip so that he could start stroking properly, legs spread, feet braced against the mattress as he tilted his pelvis up. His eyes drifted closed as he once again remembered how Spock's hips had moved with the horse, rocking with an unconscious grace, the muscle memory of Spock's body against his. How Spock looked with rivulets of rain on his pale skin that just begged for Jim's lips to taste, to lick up the water from his body, Imagining Spock's hands pulling him closely as Jim kissed up his chin, finally moving so that their lips….

"Captain."

Jim almost wrenched his neck turning to look around his quarters. No one was there. He had been so intent on his fantasy that hadn't even heard his communicator beep.

"Yeah, Spock?" His moved his hand so that he could lick his palm, shuddering again when he touched his dick, tightening his hold and firmly stroking.

"I request that you allow my beta shift science officer, Ensign Kim, work as my replacement for my Shift. I am... unwell."

Jim listened to Spock's voice, biting his lip and trying to remain silent as he tightened his grip. "Negative. I thought Vulcans didn't feel embarrassment, Spock?"

There was a spluttering sound over the communicator.

Jim smirked, biting his lip and trying to sound like he wasn't gasping for breath. "Sorry, Commander. I need you on the Bridge. See you in ten."

"Acknowledged." God, Spock sounded so pissed, the word bitten off and the communication ending almost before the last syllable finished. Jim felt the pressure in his balls, the tension in his leg muscles, and let go, watching each spurt as it shot up into the air, landing on his stomach and the back of his hand.

As he cleaned up, Jim grinned to himself again. Spock wanted to sneak into his Captain's quarters? Fine. And he had every right to change his mind, although his running out of here had been a surprise. But Spock could deal with the situation, not try to hide out in his room because the morning hadn't gone quite like he thought it would. And _he_ called him infantile. Jim took a quick sonic shower and dressed.

Jim wasn't surprised to hear that he was whistling a little under his breath as he made his way to the Bridge.

When the turbolift's doors flew open, Jim smiled to see Spock seated at his Science station, back ramrod straight.

"Good morning, guys! Sorry, Lieutenant. You're relieved."

"Thank you, Captain. Have a good morning, Captain."

Jim made his way to his chair, sprawling as usual. "Lieutenant Sulu, how close are we to our destination?"

"Four hours, sir. Um, and twenty-one minutes."

"Commander Spock! Anything to report?" Jim ignored Uhura's raised eyebrow at the way he practically purred his question. Her glare was a little harder to ignore, but he managed.

"No, sir." His voice was quiet, restrained.

"Sulu, increase to warp five, please. I'd like to get this show on the road. Oh, hello Yeoman Rand. And how are you on this beautiful morning?" Jim turned in his chair to grin at the solemn-faced yeoman. Rand had been with Pike for years, but Spock had recommended that Jim try to get her assigned to the _Enterprise_ , commenting that "For a Human, she is quite competently efficient." Which, for Spock was practically hearts and rainbows on bended knee.

"Fantastic, Sir. Please read though and sign these."

"Awesome! I love paperwork. Don't you love paperwork, Yeoman?"

"Yes, sir. It gives my life meaning and purpose." She didn't even crack a smile. Jim wasn't actually positive that she _knew_ how to smile, but Jim persevered.

Okay, Rand was kind of scary. Jim smiled at her (the smile Jim personally thought of as his panty-melter smile) and just to be an asshole, looked over at Spock's station and beamed at his back. He caught Spock glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, and his grin changed into a knowing smirk. Spock turned in his chair, back even more ramrod straight, tips of his ears slightly green.

"Right, Yeoman. Thanks. I'll get these back to you... well. Sometime."

"As specific as ever, sir." She turned and walked off.

Jim looked down at his PADD and felt the smirk drain off of his face. A miniature-sized Q was in the tiny viewscreen, staring blandly back up at him.

"Hello there, Mon Capitán."

Jim looked around wildly. No one reacted to the mocking voice. His crew was still bent studiously over their individual tasks, busy.

"Did you have a good evening? How about a good morning? Oh, don't worry. They can't hear you."

Jim's hand tightened on the PADD. "Why are you doing this? I don't understand what we could have possibly done to you to deserve this."

Q rolled his eyes, moving his hands in little circles. "Oh, blah blah blah. I swear, you're as bad as Jean-Luc. _Why_ is this happening? _What_ is going on? _Why_ did my crew have to die?"

Jim froze for a moment. _Die?_ Adrenaline spiked, sending his heartbeat thundering in his chest. He glared down at the little screen. "You better not fuck with my crew. Or my ship."

Q looked bored. "Or what? You'll pout at me? You do have the lips for it." Q made a little pouty face. Jim wanted to punch him. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not interested in hurting anyone."

"What about the horse? Or Spock's cold?"

Q sniffed. "Those are called _plot devices_ you ill-mannered Neanderthal. From Serious Pieces of _Literature._ And I got rid of the horse when your face started to swell." His fists came down to rest on his hips. "How about a thank you for all my efforts?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jim shook his head, eyes narrowing even further. There was a disgusted sound from the PADD and a miniature flash of light, signifying Q's departure.

Jim frowned at the small device. That was… quite unhelpful. Q expected gratitude? A very small, almost completely muffled 'aaa- _choo_!' from Spock's station reminded him that he couldn't spend the rest of his shift….

 _Oh. Ohhh shit_.

Jim's eyes closed. He could feel the blood drain away from his face. Q's words seemed to slam into him with the force of a phaser. Spock _hadn't_ tiptoed into Jim's quarters in the middle of the night. Of course he hadn't. There would be a higher likelihood of Scotty quitting Engineering and taking up a career in interpretive dance. Waking up together had been orchestrated by Q. And Jim had… he had…. Jim bit his lip, feeling his throat tighten, remembering the way he had spoken to Spock. What he had said. How he had said it.

"Commander Spock." Jim sounded like he had been gargling ground glass.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Contact Ensign Kim. You are off duty, as of now." Spock opened his mouth, and Jim barked out, "That's an order, Commander."

Spock nodded, stood and clasped his hands behind his back. He turned to face Jim, focusing on something slightly above his left shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak again, and Jim forestalled him, too ashamed to actually look him in the eye. "Just go get some rest. Stop and see Bones. I don't know if he can cure you or not, but he can help with some of the symptoms."

Spock didn't speak to him as he walked to the turbolift.

Jim wanted to beat his head against the back of his chair. He stared at the PADD, more than a little nervous about picking it up again in case any other meddlesome aliens wanted to screw around with him. He typed in his code with the stylus and began working on the backlog of reports, signing off where he needed to. Jim forced himself to not think about Spock and to complete his work.

An hour later, Jim sent a message to Uhura.

_So, Spock sounded a little under the weather._

_What did you do to him? And what the hell was that all about yesterday? When I accused you of banging farm animals, I never for an instant thought you would have… ya know... costumed accompaniment._

Even the tone of her typing was sarcastic. Jim rolled his eyes.

_Ha. Ha-ha-haa. This is me laughing. Maybe you should go check on Spock to see if he's… okay?_

There were a few minutes of silence. Jim felt the back of his neck redden as Uhura's gaze burned into him.

 _Captain, with all due respect, are you fucking kidding me?! I'm not sure what you did here, or what angle you're after but if you screwed up_ you _need to go fix it._

_I could make it an order, Lieutenant._

_Yes you could. But I know where you sleep._

Right then.

"Sulu, you have the con. I'm going to try to cut out some of this paperwork. Let me know when we get to Planet Fanboy."

"Planet. . . Fanboy? Sir?"

Jim shook his head. "Gohldar IV. Sorry." He got up, grabbed the PADD and hustled to the turbolift.

He paced in his quarters for at least ten minutes before he worked up the courage to go over to Spock's.

"Spock?"

There was no answer. Was he sleeping? Ignoring him? Plotting homicide? Jim huffed out a breath and keyed in his override, stepping quickly inside before he could change his mind.

Jim had never been in Spock's quarters before. He knew them to be almost the mirror of his, with a sleeping area separated by a small partition. Where Jim had a small table set up for dining, Spock had what was clearly a workstation set up for . . . well, working. The lighting was red, and fairly dim. Jim could see various weapons displayed prominently on the walls. All of them looked sharp, and Jim had absolutely no doubt that Spock could use each and every one of them.

The heat of Spock's quarters was like a physical slap to the face. Jim felt his uniforms sticking to him with sweat as he took a step inside. He turned towards the sleeping area and bit his lip at what he saw there. Spock lay on his side, curled slightly in on himself. He was facing away from the door, so Jim couldn't tell if he were sleeping or not. Spock was bundled into heavy blankets so that only the very top of his head and one pointed ear stuck out of the covers.

"What do you want?"

"Uh. I was just checking on you. Do you need anything? Are you feeling okay?"

There was a rustle of the covers. Spock's voice was muffled when he answered. "Captain, as I have explained numerous times, Vulcans do not 'feel'."

"Ah- right. Look, I'm going to go in there, okay?" Jim ran his hand through his sweaty hair and took the few steps necessary to take him to the foot of Spock's bed. He sat down uninvited and could practically feel Spock's body vibrate with sudden tension. "And in continuing with my long-standing tradition, I have something else to apologize for. I thought… uh." Jim could feel himself blushing. All at once, he was tremendously glad that Spock wasn't actually facing him. "I thought you had sneaked into my room. This morning. Um, I mean. That you _wanted_ to be there. With me. And err... the way I acted after was, ah, shitty. That is to say, I acted like an idiot. When Q told me that he made us wake up together and I—"

Jim broke off when he felt Spock's hand clamp down on his wrist. His mind slid into blessed, staticy blankness for a moment. Spock's hand felt as though it would brand him as his long fingers closed around Jim's skin, sliding a little on the sweat that had not been captured by his uniform.

"That being contacted you? Without my presence?"

"Uh…" He swallowed hard, remembering all at once how those fingers had felt wrapped around him, sliding against his cock.

Spock sat up, the blankets falling away. His grip tightened slightly on Jim's wrist. Spock had removed his blue uniform shirt and was suddenly way too close, glaring slightly at Jim's too-wide eyes. His regulation blacks made his face seem eerily pale, especially backlit as it was by the red light of his quarters. "Explain."

He let go of Jim's wrist. Jim edged away from him slowly, backing away from Spock as one would from a dangerous animal. His wrist didn't hurt, but Jim could still feel the imprint of Spock's grip.

"He just appeared while I was on the bridge. In my PADD. He insulted me a few times, pointed out that he could kill all of us if he wished, then left in a huff."

Spock tilted his head, as though thinking about this. "Your apology is unnecessary. You did not answer my previous query. Why exactly are you here?"

Jim winced. "I know you don't want my apology, but that's part of why I'm here. My mom always would baby me a little when I was sick. I guess I thought…" He broke off and picked absently at the sheets on Spock's bed.

"Baby you?"

"You know, bring soup, tuck you in... that sort of thing?"

"Ah. You are referring to physical demonstrations of emotion. Caring. I fail to see the logic in you performing such an activity for myself."

Okay so he deserved that _._ But it still hurt. "Oh." Jim turned to move off of the bed. "Right. I'll uh... just go. We'll be in orbit soon, anyway. I should be on the Bridge."

"Jim."

Jim froze, turning his neck to meet Spock's gaze. He could count on one hand the number of times Spock had used his name. He felt his heart give a strange sort of flutter.

"Some soup would be nutritionally satisfying."

Jim started to grin, until the blinding white light filled his vision.

***

His senses were so bombarded that it took Jim a moment to process the difference. Driving, pounding music surrounded him. He could feel the floor vibrate, and his ears rang with the pulsing beat. He opened his eyes to see Spock standing there, looking around. Jim couldn't hear Spock's words, but his lips clearly formed the word 'fascinating'.

Fascinating was one word. Orgasmic might be another. Jim knew he was standing there like a complete idiot, mouth open eyes widened in shock. For a moment, he wondered what the fuck Q was thinking. In the next moment he wanted to perhaps compose him an ode or build a shrine of some sort.

Spock was turned in profile as he watched the writhing throng of dancers. Jim's gaze zeroed in on Spock's body. His chest was bare except for what looked like … glitter. He could see everything Spock had modestly hidden from him in the rain, and his eyes flicked over his skin like a starving man's at a feast. His thin body was extremely well defined, showing how deceptive the slight frame was in proportion to the hidden strength within. Jim's eyes moved down his torso, catching on his slightly protruding hipbones. Spock's long legs were encased in leather trousers that left very little to Jim's imagination. His brain stuttered a little as he saw how low-cut they were, the lacings in the front stretching over the bulge encased there. The back of the trousers did things to Spock's ass that were probably illegal in several star systems. Boots came up to just under his knee. Jim looked down at himself to see that he was wearing the exact same thing.

Someone standing behind him slammed into him, sending Jim reeling towards Spock. He felt Spock's hands curl around his upper arms, catching him from falling. Jim couldn't read the expression on Spock's face, but when their eyes met he felt the jolt to his toes.

Spock was wearing eyeliner, smudged just a little near the corners of his eyes.

Jim felt like whimpering.

Someone jostled him again as the music changed and Jim realized that Spock was… dancing. His body moved to the pounding music as though he had been clubbing every day of his life. Spock pulled Jim nearer to his body, letting go of him completely. The expression on his face changed to one of challenge.

Jim smirked, the floundering feeling disappearing. They moved together perfectly, twisting their bodies around each other, keeping just enough space between them to emphasize how close they actually were. How little it would take to touch. Spock's gaze didn't waver from Jim's half-lidded one.

Jim lost track of time, losing himself in the pounding music and sensual movement. Jim kept flirting with that scant inch or so of space, moving closer, and then back, thrusting and gyrating. He was half-hard already, and so lost in the moment that when he brushed their pelvises together he could hear himself groan over the pounding music. He licked his lips and smirked, daring Spock to react.

The room tilted crazily as Jim was spun around, Spock's hands sliding on the sweat-slick skin of his hips as he pulled their bodies together. One of Spock's arms tightened around Jim's chest, while his other hand kept his hips pinned against Spock's front. Jim moved against him, twitching and shaking his ass, pressing closer and away, thrusting back against Spock, feeling his cock through two pairs of leather trousers. Spock's hands moved to Jim's thighs, fingers splayed, pressing against the muscle, moving Jim's body in synch with his.

Jim brought one of his arms down to adjust himself and felt Spock's grip on his wrist again, stopping him. Spock was curled around his back, breath hot against his ear, and this time Jim could distinctly hear the low growl. He could feel it, vibrating against his back. Jim's world tilted crazily again and he was being yanked along behind Spock, watching dazedly as Spock wove gracefully through the assembled throng of dancers, his grip bruising as Jim scrambled to keep up.

When the blindingly white light appeared, Jim thought for a moment that it was just another strobe light. Until he focused on the corridor of the _Enterprise_.

Spock stopped so suddenly that Jim almost stepped into him. Jim jerked his arm out of Spock's grasp. They stared at each other for a moment, not noticing a pair of Ensigns who were staring at the two of them so hard they actually walked directly into the bulkhead behind them.

Spock was staring at him, a muscle in his jaw clenching over and over. He turned without a word and disappeared into his quarters.

Jim realized he was shaking from delayed reaction. He was so turned on that it hurt to walk, the tight leather he was wearing providing pressure and friction as he took one step, then another towards his own door. He leaned against the wall for a moment, still breathing heavily, the sweat on his body cooling uncomfortably in the drastic temperature change of his room. He wanted to walk over to Spock's room. Fifteen steps, twenty at most and he would be standing in their shared bathroom…

"Captain Kirk. We'll be in orbit of Gohldar IV in approximately a half an hour." Sulu's voice jarred him out of his thoughts. Jim lowered the foot he had raised in preparation to take that first step. _Fuck. Fuuuuuck._

"Thanks Sulu. I'll be there in a minute."

He looked down at himself. The glittery paint had smudged over everything. He was going to have to take _another_ shower. He couldn't greet the Gohlarians like this. Fully aware of the irony of the situation, Jim walked towards the bathroom.

His hands were on his hips to unlace lacings when he realized that he was not alone in the room. Jim's head jerked up so quickly that little droplets of sweat flew off of the back of his neck. Spock had the tiniest of smirks on his face.

"We're on duty, you know."

"Negative. I was ordered off of my station for the duration of my shift. _You_ are on duty." Spock paused, tilting his head. "I find that I do not particularly care."

Jim found himself backed up against the bulkhead. He forgot to breathe when he felt Spock's hand reach out to grip his jaw. Spock's thumb rubbed lightly over the spot just under Jim's eye, coming away smudged with black.

"What is this substance?" Spock tilted his body so that his leg was between Jim's.

"It's eyeliner." Jim's voice was breathy.

"It makes your eyes even more aesthetically pleasing." Those eyes drifted shut as Spock leaned over his face. Spock tilted his leg up so that the strong muscles in his thigh rubbed against Jim's cock. He couldn't believe this, that Spock was so aggressively going after what he wanted. That what Spock wanted was Jim. He reached out his hands, sliding them against Spock's back, curling his fingers so that they cupped the cheeks of his ass, pulling him closer against his body. Spock made a sharp sound in the back of his throat at Jim's touch.

"Open your eyes, Jim."

Jim's eyes snapped open. Spock's hand slid across his cheekbones, brushing the pads of his fingers over his lips. Jim's mouth opened automatically, sucking in the tip of Spock's pointer finger. That sound came again, going directly to Jim's cock. He thrust a little against Spock.

"You're sure you want to do this?" The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. Jim watched Spock's eyes darken.

"This Q being has put us into several situations designed to spark a feeling of sexual awareness." Spock bent again, tasting the sweat from Jim's shoulder.

"So, you think that if we fuck he'll go away?"

"Affirmative."

"That's ah… quite logical." Jim licked at Spock's finger, then moaned when he felt Spock fasten his lips to his shoulder and suck, sliding his lips up Jim's collar bone, his neck and up to just under his ear. Jim tightened his hands over the leather-class ass, moving his fingers down and pressing their lower bodies even harder together.

Spock moved his hands, settling them at Jim's waist for just a moment before pulling at the fastenings. Jim heard the fabric rip, crying out when Spock's hot fingers curled around him again. His head hit the back of the wall as he froze, his whole being concentrating on Spock's hand.

"You…pleasured yourself while thinking of me." Spock's hot breath was against his ear, sending shivers down Jim's spine at the sensation. He bit the earlobe, and tightened his hand into a fist, starting a light, teasing stroke.

 _What? Oh, touch-telepathy._ Jim's eyes narrowed and he projected images as strong as he could. Him on his knees in front of Spock. The bottle of lube in the drawer next to his bed. What he looked like, shooting come into the air and over his fist, what it felt like to have his head still ringing from the orgasm, hearing Spock speaking over the communicator.

Spock hissed and pushed Jim away, turning and taking the two steps needed to rummage into the drawer on the nightstand, back next to Jim in mere seconds. Jim found his wrists pinned to the wall with one steely grip, holding him so that his arms were stretched just this side of uncomfortable. The feel of the cold lube in contrast with the heat of Spock's hand and the heat of Jim's flesh caused him to cry out again, feeling the slippery slickness of Spock's grip as he started fisting him, moving back and forth quickly, turning his wrist just slightly to change the grip as his fingers moved over the head. Jim pulled at his wrists, but Spock just pressed his whole body against him, his cock still hidden behind the leather, the shape clearly discernable.

"Let me... I want to touch you." Jim whined, standing up on his tiptoes to relieve some of the pressure on his wrists. Spock just moved his grip, sliding Jim up the wall, speeding up the movements of his hand. Jim became aware of Spock's hips, thrusting into his. The feel of Spock so hard for him, and Jim knowing that he couldn't touch, turned him on even more. He began to move against Spock's hand, thrusting into the slippery tightness. Jim stretched his neck so that he could kiss Spock, their lips touching for the first time, breath and saliva mixing. Spock's mouth was hot, and Jim couldn't get enough of it. The feel of Spock's mouth moving over his, the feel of Spock thrusting into him, the feel of Spock's hand sliding over him all swirled together for a minute, sending Jim into sensory overload. He could feel his cock jerking in Spock's tight grip as he began to come, moaning and thrashing his head from side to side, unable to move any other part of his body, pinned as he was to the wall.

Spock grunted, his slippery hand moving to Jim's hip, turning his body so that his hard cock lined up with Jim's softening one. Jim heard that sound again- the sharp, barely discernable sound of want- in the back of Spock's throat. He pulled at his arms, but Spock still would not release him, so he raised his legs to wrap them around Spock's waist, arching against him. Jim continued to kiss him, sliding their tongues together as he licked at Spock's mouth. _Come on Spock come for me now, let go just do it, do it doitdoit… now!_ until he felt Spock freeze for a moment, arching into Jim's body and shuddering against him.

****

 

* * *

'WAIT! Wait, wait. _Wait_!"

"Was there something you needed, dear woman?" Q's look of polite interest seemed to make Guinan even more furious.

"You can't just have them fall into bed together and expect that to make up for what you did!"

"I don't understand. They seemed rather focused. Happy, even. Perhaps a bit … sticky."

Guinan took a step forward, eyes narrowed. Q took a hasty step backwards, putting up his hands. He sighed, gustily. "Oh, very well."

She looked suspicious. "No interfering. You can't just wave your hands and make them fall in love with each other."

Q frowned. Damn intrusive woman. "Fii-iiine. I won't make them fall in love with each other. Now shoo. Shoo!" He snapped his finger and disappeared in a flash of light, wondering if Guinan realized he had only agreed to part of her statement.

******

* * *

"Captain Kirk!"

"Governor Kah'ous. It is a pleasure to meet you. This is Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura, and Ensign Chekov over there on the transporter." Spock and Uhura nodded politely. Chekov gave a little wave. They had arranged for the young man and two of his aides to accompany him up to the Enterprise. The younger council members had wanted to see the starship, so Jim and the greeting party had met them in the transporter room.

"Please call me Jordun."

Jim held out his hand and grasped Jordon's forearm. Uhura had debriefed him on the proper way to greet a Gohldarian. Jordun mirrored Jim's grip, their hands sliding down over each other's wrists, the first two fingers of each hand brushing lightly together before they each let go. Jim heard a gasp of air behind him and recognized that Spock had made the sound before turning to repeat the gesture to the other two Gohldarians.

He turned slightly to meet his First Officer's gaze, concerned that he had already managed to screw up. Spock looked furious for a moment before changing his expression into one of absolute placid blankness.

"Jordun. You expressed a desire to see the workings of the Enterprise. If you are amenable, I would like the three of you to consider yourselves my guests. We have prepared a light meal. Perhaps afterwards we can take a tour." Jim smiled at the young man in front of him, proud of how diplomatic-y he sounded.

Jordun looked as though he had died and gone to heaven. "Yes! Please, that sounds _wonderful_." He linked his arm with Jim's and looked around as though he expected something amazing to occur on demand.

"Captain, if you will excuse me, I have some experiments that need my attention." Spock's voice was mild.

"I have preparations to make for the meal, sir. Please excuse me." Uhura smiled brightly at the dignitaries and followed Spock out of the door.

"Sure. Jordun, are you ready?" Oh god, they were going to leave him alone with the kid and his interplanetary squee squad. Not for the first time, Jim wished that all this nonsense could have been accomplished on the planet, instead of his ship. Jim threw his two senior officers a rather panicked glance, narrowing his eyes at their backs as they left.

"Can we see the planet? Can we see Engineering? How about the Bridge? Ooooh, can I sit in your _chair_?"

Jim felt the beginnings of a headache start to throb behind his eyes.

***

* * *

Jim wanted to whistle under his breath. The meal  had been a success. Uhura had seen to the details of the entire affair, making sure that there were several delicacies from both Gohldar IV and several other planets, and thank god because if Jim had had anything to say about it, they would have been eating pizza and beer and calling it a night.

Jordun had attached himself to Jim in a way that made Jim start to sort of fear for his virtue. He had lost count of the number of times that he'd had his arm stroked, or his ass grabbed. Jim had just smiled, and if his smile occasionally looked a bit more like a grimace than an actual smile, well, he didn't think anyone would blame him. Much. Pike had been so amused by the whole situation that, perversely, Jim had promised himself that he would do everything in his power to make the mission a success. He had had the feeling that the eyes of the rest of the higher-ups of Starfleet were all over him, and if allowing a little grabass made Jordun and his controlling vote agree to the Federation's trade agreement then so be it.

Jordun was now the proud owner of an autographed picture of Jim and his bridge crew, a replica Starfleet uniform, a Tribble, and the glass that Jim had sipped wine out of at the dinner, wrapped in a napkin and stored carefully in Jordun's satchel. Jim had the feeling that he wasn't supposed to know about the last item. Jordun had been ecstatic to tour Engineering and the rest of the ship, but had been in raptures when Jim had allowed him to sit in his command chair.

Still, it was with quite a sense of relief that he steered the party back to the transporter room. He was ready for this to be over. Spock hadn't betrayed by so much as a twitch of an eyebrow what he and Jim had been up to earlier. In fact, he had been downright apathetic to Jim on the bridge, in the kind of prissy passive-aggressive way he had. Jim had figured he had done something wrong, but wasn't sure what it could have been. Duty came first, of course. He could always talk to Spock later.

Spock had stood aside while Jordun had bounced around in Jim's command chair, not looking at or acknowledging his Captain. He had watched impassively as Jordun acted out the last few minutes of Nero's demise, _pew pew pew_ ing with a pretend phaser at the viewscreen. Jim stood beside Spock, shoulders just barely brushing. Spock had moved so that they weren't touching, hands clasped behind his back in his customary parade rest.

Jim had smirked inwardly, and as he corralled their guests back into the turbolift, had brushed his hand against Spock's, projecting as hard as he could the memory of them writhing together against the wall of Jim's quarters. Spock's head had whipped around so fast that Jim had taken an instinctive step back. Jim just grinned and followed the three Gohldarians to the lift.

Jim began saying goodbye to the three dignitaries. Jordun pouted a little when Jim politely refused to have dinner with him on his planet. The doors swished open behind them, and Jim couldn't help the way his whole face lit up when he saw Spock standing there, just inside the door.

Jordun's wide, doe-like eyes moved from Spock and back to Jim for a moment before the muscles around his mouth tightened imperceptibly. He hissed something to his aides in Gohldarian, then turned beaming to Jim, holding out his hand to say goodbye. As their fingers slid together, Jordun barked out what was clearly an order, grabbing Jim's hand and yanking him close before he could do much more than let out a startled gasp. He felt Jordun's lips on his, arms wrapping around Jim's shoulders and the strange feeling of being pulled apart as a transporter engaged, taking Jim away from the _Enterprise_.

The last thing he saw was Spock's wide eyes as he took a step towards the transporter pad.

***

* * *

"Why hello there, Command… _oooph_!" Q's chipper greeting ended abruptly as an enraged Vulcan slammed him against the wall. With a flash of light, Spock appeared ten feet away, feet frozen to the spot.

"Now, Commander. That was awfully emotional of you."

"You will return Captain Kirk to the Enterprise immediately." Spock's body fairly vibrated with suppressed rage.

Q walked slowly towards Spock, his smile showing a lot of teeth. "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I hardly think that you're in a position to be giving me orders."

Spock glared.

"Besides. I didn't have anything to do with him being taken. But here. Since you're so concerned, you can watch what's going on if you want."

There was another flash of light, and a large viewscreen appeared on the wall across from them. Spock could see Jim sitting in a dark room. He looked to have been badly beaten. Jim sat there, curled in on himself, face on his knee, eyes shut. He was gagged, and there was blood caked around the corners of his mouth.

He seemed to be waiting for something. There was the sound of a door clanging shut, and Spock watched with a strange twitch in the vicinity of his stomach as Jim flinched. Two bulky Gohldarians walked up to him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back towards the table. Jim fought, scrambling. His movements were restricted enough that he couldn't really do much. The guard on the left casually punched him in the stomach, causing Jim to cry out. Spock's own stomach tensed in reaction, as though he could take the blows on himself. Spock swallowed hard as he watched Jim being restrained onto the table. The guards were casually violent, the dull thuds of their fists hitting Jim's body causing Spock to tense further and further.

"Oww- _wie_ , that looks like it hurts. Oh, here's the good part. Watch, now."

Spock absolutely loathed this Q being with everything in him. He was still frozen to the spot, breathing a little heavier with each blow Jim took. Jim lay passively on the table now, head turned away from his tormentors. The bulkier one on the right took what looked to be a large hypodermic needle out of a case. It had some sort of red fluid in it. Jim was too exhausted to move as they injected him with the contents.

"Aw, that's so sad. See… spoiler alert… but they don't know about your Capitán's crazy physiology. I mean, really. Who is allergic to horses during this day and age? What they just gave him is going to cause his lungs to slowly shut down. All those tiny, fragile Human capillaries will burst. Those beautiful blue eyes will slowly dim as all the life bleeds out of him. Sad, really. All they meant to do was keep him pliant and open to suggestion. It will be quite a shock when Governor Kah' ous sees what his little machinations have accomplished. "

Spock could see Jim begin to struggle breathing. "What do you hope to accomplish by showing me these things?" He despised the weakness in his voice, the shaky way it wavered. He could not look away from Jim's face.

"Oh. Well, I thought you might want me to stop it. I can you know. Just a little flick of my wrist and your Capitán will be right as rain, back on the _Enterprise_ that he adores so much. There's just one little thing." Q paused, taking a step closer to the Vulcan, partially blocking the viewscreen with his body.

"You'll have to take his place."

Spock didn't even have to think about it. Save Jim? Preserve the life that had come to mean so very much to him? His eidetic memory flooded with hundreds of images of them on the bridge, on away missions. Recent, intimate images that caused him to wish fleetingly that he had responded to some of Jim's obvious overtures for friendship, instead of wasting so much time.

Spock blinked once, looking for the first time fully into Q's eyes.

"Yes."

*****

* * *

_Ugh._

Jordun might have been a prime example of man . . . well, Gohldar-hood, but his breath? Fucking disgusting. Jim opened his eyes to push him away…

… and came face to face with Q instead, whose lips were still pursed as though to give him a giant kiss on the lips.

Jim moved his head as far away from him as he could. _Uggghh!_

Q frowned in mock sadness. "Mon Capitán. After all we've shared together? You would reject me now?" Jim found himself reeling as he was pushed away. He landed hard on his ass, teeth snapping together as he landed.

"And after I saved you from being kidnapped off your own ship? That's really a no-no. Starfleet tends to be quite put out with such lax security."

Jim was lucky he hadn't bitten his tongue. He wiggled his lower jaw for a second before trying to stand… and found that he couldn't move.

"You? Saved me?"

Q threw up his hands and snapped his fingers, a squishy chintz armchair appearing out of nowhere. He sat, regally crossing his legs, looking down at Jim with a sorrowful look on his face. He sighed deeply. "I understand that your upbringing might have left you with some … shall we say… trust issues, but _really_. That Jordun character had some quite unsavory things planned for you. Positions never-before imag..well, I guess _you_ probably have. But normal Humans wouldn't have had a clue." He tsked again under his breath. "Shame really. I wish I could have saved _him_ as well."

Jim quit his struggling to get to his feet and froze for a second, eyes narrowing. "Saved who?"

"Whom, dear boy. Saved _whom_." Q paused looking mournfully over at the wall.

Jim turned his neck, trepidation causing a fine sweat to break out on his body. It was as though he knew what was going to happen a spilt-second before he saw it. The wall had turned into a viewscreen and as the image swam into view, he heard Q answer his question.

"Why your Spock of course. They were so very irked when you disappeared right from under their noses."

Spock was sitting in a room, naked. His body was curled in on itself to preserve any body heat that he possibly could. It didn't seem to be working. Jim could see Spock's breath in the room. Spock was shivering so hard that he was actually twitching on the floor. Jim looked hard at the screen. There seemed to be no exits, the stark metal of the floor and walls gleaming coldly.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Get him _out_ of there!" Jim couldn't look away from Spock. It was absolutely inconceivable to see him so helpless. Jim renewed his efforts to move, as though if he could just get to the viewscreen he could stop this somehow.

"I cannot. I wish I could, believe me." Q shifted in his seat and watched, eyes flicking over the screen. He sighed again, sadly.

Spock's eyes opened once and he moaned on a stuttered breath. Jim could see that his lips had tuned a strange pale green color as his body temperature dropped. The tips of his ears were already almost white. Spock's eyes were dazed, tired. As though he was giving up.

"No! There has to be something you can do!" Jim could feel the hot sting of tears in his eyes.

Q looked from the viewscreen to Jim, who was still struggling desperately. "There is one thing."

Jim's heart gave a hopeful leap. "What?" he whispered, the word strained.

Q leaned forward, filling Jim's vision so that he blocked the viewscreen with his body. "You'll have to take his place."

Jim blinked rapidly. He thought briefly of the Enterprise. Of her crew. Of her First Officer. His throat tightened so much that he couldn't swallow. Jim's head lowered, feeling wetness on his cheeks. When he spoke, the one syllable was strong with all the confidence of his command.

"Yes."

***

* * *

A flash of light.

Jim shook his head as the light cleared. He didn't feel cold. Shouldn't he be cold? He stood there for a second, strangely afraid to open his eyes.

There was a gasp of air; a rush of feet and Jim was enveloped in strong arms holding him tightly. Jim's eyes flew open and could see Spock looking at him so intensely that for a moment Jim couldn't breathe. Spock's hands ran over his arms, his chest, pulling off his uniform shirts so that he could check the flesh underneath as though needing to see with his own eyes that Jim was unharmed.

"How… How are we? But you were…."

Jim's words stuttered from the blatant possession in Spock's touch. Spock's hands were hot on his skin, stroking up over his chest to his neck, from his neck to his jaw, tilting his mouth and kissing him softly, fingers lightly brushing against the meld points on his face. Jim had a moment of panic that Spock would see too much, understand everything he felt and turn away in disgust; then his fingers reached up to Spock's, pressing them to his face.

A mummer of words whispered into his mouth and Jim could only catch fleeting impressions of Spock freezing in front of him, a vision of himself beaten and almost broken on a table; fuzzy emotions of _love/desperation/want/yearning/terror_ anchoring him somehow until Spock pulled his fingers away from his face. They stared at each other for a moment, both breathing heavily. Jim's mind whirled with thoughts, impressions… possibilities.

Spock moved so that his forehead rested against Jim's. His fingers flexed on his face as though Spock wanted nothing more to connect their minds again. Jim's hands slid down over the backs of Spock's hands, down to his wrists.

"So… you too?" Jim almost didn't recognize his voice. "That wasn't real? Q I mean. From before. None of that… happened?"

"Not all of it." Spock's eyes had never been so expressive. Jim could hear the echoes of his own "yes" in his head as he agreed to trade his life for Spock's. Jim rubbed his slightly stubbled cheek against Spock's palms, gaze turning wicked when Spock's own dark gaze fluttered shut.

"I think I'm obsessed with your hands. They're so sensitive." Jim's whisper caused Spock's mouth to quirk just slightly. Jim moved so that he could kiss the very center of Spock's palm. His other hand slid lightly down Spock's side, feeling his heartbeat pounding frantically and pressing his hand against the spot.

"Obsession… is illogical, Captain." Jim traced a little figure eight with his tongue over Spock's lifeline. "However, I find myself strangely compelled to fully investigate the merits of such a claim." He gasped again as Jim pulled their lower bodies together with one yank of his hand.

"Just so you know? You lecturing? Complete turn on. I'm glad you weren't my Professor at the Academy or you might have seriously fucked up my grade point average." Jim's voice ended on a squeak as Spock simply lifted him and turned, tossing him down onto the bed. For the first time, Jim noticed that they were in his quarters. Jim's legs fell open as he bounced a little on the mattress, Spock settling naturally between the space he made there.

Spock's mouth was doing things to his neck that was making Jim's blood sing. Jim moved his hands under Spock's uniform, scratching his nails up his back, lightly moving his fingers over the ridges in his spine, the flexing muscles, around Spock's shoulder blades then back down over his ribs and into his trousers. He pushed, arching up into Spock's body.

Spock bit him

Jim's whole body went boneless, relaxing into the mattress. "Impatience will not do you any good." Jim couldn't see Spock's expression, but really didn't need to; he could hear the smirk clearly.

Spock moved up and off of the bed so that he could strip of his clothes. Jim sat up a little against the pillows, watching Spock's body as it was revealed to him one inch at a time. He bit his lip when he saw Spock set his clothes carefully to the side of Jim's bed. When he turned again he was naked, cock jutting out proudly from his body. Jim licked his lips as he stared at him. One of Spock's hands trailed slowly down his chest, wrapping around himself and squeezing gently. His cock turned a slightly darker shade of green. Spock hissed a little and took a step closer to the bed.

Jim's eyes actually drifted shut. He wanted that. Wanted Spock inside of him.

The mattress dipped a little as Spock leaned back down, his breath ghosting over Jim's sternum. Jim's thoughts fell against each other as he appreciated the difference of Spock's seemingly human body on the outside, with the Vulcan organ physiology on the inside. "I thought you would look… different, " he blurted.

"You imagined what I would look like unclothed?" Jim felt Spock's tongue flick over his nipple.

He tried not to whimper as he felt it harden. Spock's mouth was so hot that when he pulled off and blew a little the shock of the difference in temperature caused Jim's own cock to twitch in his pants. He vaguely recalled that Spock had asked him a question. "Ye-yes."

Spock moved his mouth over Jim's chest, stimulating, licking, using his lips and teeth until Jim was moaning, over and over, unable to help himself. He felt the cooler air of the room on his legs and realized that Spock had undone his trousers, and had begun to pull them down only to have the fabric catch on the leg that Spock was leaning on. There was a low bass growl and the sound of ripping fabric.

"Oh… _Christ_ , Spock that's… _nuugh_!"

Spock had been teasing him, pushing his body to such a height of awareness that when he simply swallowed Jim's cock instead of playing with it Jim lost his grasp of Standard. Jim was beyond processing individual sensations, his cock enveloped as it was in sucking wet heat. When Spock tightened his throat muscles around him Jim couldn't help the way his hips bucked, seeking more.

He cursed when Spock pulled off of him. "I told you your impatience would be to your detriment."

Jim started to bring his hands to his own aching cock and actually whined when Spock wouldn't let him touch himself. "Stretch your hands up above your head, Jim." Jim's throat went dry. He might have had a small thought that whispered 'hey just who was supposed to give the orders here?' but he was able to beat it back into submission by moving his arms so quickly he accidentally knocked Spock's head with his elbow.

He felt Spock moving his thighs so that his legs were stretched wide, the Vulcan just staring at him. Jim arched a little, showing off, and was rewarded with he saw the muscles in Spock's throat work. Spock moved slightly, reaching up and over.

Jim had time to moan, body clenching once in anticipation when he heard the slight sound of the tube of lubricant that Spock squirted onto his fingers. Jim opened his legs even more, tilting his hips. He heard small needy sounds repeating over and over and realized dimly that it was him, moaning Spock's name.

One finger circled his entrance gently, pressing and teasing the sensitive nerves until Jim was rocking his hips slightly in counterpoint with the stroking finger. Jim's hands tightened on the shelf on his headboard, fingers desperately seeking some sort of purchase.

Spock slid in the tip, up to the first knuckle and Jim bit his lip to keep himself from begging. Spock made a sound in the back of his throat and Jim had time to remember - _oh yeah, sensitive hands-_ before the finger started to stroke him from inside, moving a little from side to side, then thrusting slightly. Another finger joined the first and Jim was unable to keep quiet, moaning and gasping with each thrust of Spock's fingers. He felt his cock grow harder, felt his balls tighten so sharply that it was almost painful.

"More…" he tired to demand it, but the breath of air came out more desperate than anything else. "Please…"

Spock shook his head and Jim saw stars as three fingers stretched him open, spreading and stretching the tight channel until Jim had braced his feet against his mattress, and was moving his hips, fucking himself on Spock's fingers. They were yanked away; Spock moved and Jim felt the head of his cock bump against his entrance. Spock made that growly noise in the back of his throat again as he quickly spread more lube onto his cock, before pressing, sliding into Jim with steely control.

" _Ohhh_.."

Jim looked up at Spock's face above him, moving his arms so that he could hang on to Spock's shoulders. Spock bent almost in half, kissing spots on Jim's arms, then his chest, his side, his throat, slowly beginning to move inside him and Jim belatedly realized that Spock was kissing every single place he'd ever been injured on the _Enterprise_.

Jim's hands cupped Spock's cheeks and he was whispering over and over, unable to keep the words back one instant longer, telling of his love and friendship and need.

Spock's face tightened. "Jim… I…. this…."

At any other time to have made Spock lose his powers of speech would have made Jim feel like gloating for weeks. Now, he just kissed the lips that couldn't articulate, a lifetime of training suppressing his ability to put a name to the emotion , and it didn't matter to Jim because he could read it in every single slide of Spock's skin against his, every thrust of him deep inside his body. Jim moved his legs, wrapping his legs around Spock's waist, desperate not to let him leave.

****

* * *

"Well?"

"Wow!" An embarrassed cough. "I mean, uh, well they do seem to care for each other."

Q's look of smug satisfaction froze for a moment in shock. "Care? _Care_?" He pointed one imperious finger at the screen. "That is not mere caring!"

Guinan raised an eyebrow. She looked to Q, who was still craning his neck, watching the two men curl up together on the bed, kissing in both the Human and Vulcan way. She indicated the irate Q with a jerk of her neck. "It seems to me that they have actually fallen in love."

Q practically _radiated_ smug satisfaction.

"Shame that it doesn't count though. You cheated."

"I _what_?!" He screeched.

Guinan and Q faced each other, practically toe to toe. The other Q was still looking dopily at the viewscreen, where Spock was pulling up the blankets over Jim and himself. Jim was smiling into Spock's shoulder. "You. Cheated. I told you that you couldn't make them fall in love with each other."

"I did no such thing!"

"Then what do you call the last part at the end?"

"Hot?"

Both Q and Guinan turned to Q and glared. He held up his hands and looked back at the viewscreen.

"I call 'the part of the end' them realizing that they would each give up everything for the other. If that's not love then I don't know what is."

Guinan's head cocked as she thought about this for a moment.

Q stood next to her, breathing heavily, practically quivering with righteous indignation.

"Well. When you're right… you're right."

Q beamed.

Guinan started to smile, but reached up and kissed Q very gently on the lips instead. "Good job." She turned to the other Q who had watched the little exchange between the two of them with a tiny smirk on his face. He nodded and snapped his fingers, sending Guinan back to her own time and place with a flash of light.

Q looked like someone had just come up behind him and smacked him in the back of the head with a two-by-four. He sucked in a deep breath to go after her, but Q laid a hand on his arm.

"Here. A parting gift. I know how much you like research." Q took one last look at the two tangled together on the narrow bunk and shook his head. "You've done quite well. Beyond my expectations, to tell the truth." He disappeared, leaving Q blinking down at the brightly wrapped gift in his hands.

His finally got over his surprise, feeling a strange sort of … anticipation. He could still feel the softness of Guinan's lips on his own. He opened the paper, looking down at the object with a raised eyebrow.

"The _Kama Sutra_?" He flipped through a few pages, curious despite himself. His gaze rested on the two in the viewscreen briefly before his lips twisted into the _evilest_ smile…

 

 

The end! :D

* * *

**A/N…. aaaaaand yes. I do ship Guinan and Q. wuuut.**

 

 


End file.
